


E pesa come l'anima

by D20Owlbear



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aspec Friendly, Aziraphale can't say "i love you", Aziraphale is supportive, Crowley is supportive, I'm here to tell you this is 6000 + like 6 more years post apoc, M/M, Not at first at least, Rated G for aziraphale being really fucking in love Guys, Wait wait, and you can take them over my cold dead body, anyone who likes them is fine but i believe in the purple prose power of way too many commas, based on a comic, but he gets there!, but the touching is all very tender, godbless ace week and all the good good content coming from it, i blacked out for like two hours and came out the other side with this written, i will die on this hill, now that you've stopped paying attention to the tags, pick one and stick with it christ, rated G for way too much fucking metaphor, short sentences are for nonRomantic losers, speedrun the slowburn here we go, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, thank you so much sightkeeper!, that was a stretch but we're gonna go with it, they do not kiss in this, they have a healthy relationship so help me god, they're in LOVE harold!, this is also literally the softest thing I've ever written and I'm almost embarrassed for it, three squeezes of a hand means "I love you" and it's very tender, very quickly betaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27323764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: [3 + 2 +1] Three times Aziraphale never began the words, two times he fails to get them out, and one time he finally managed it.I love you hung heavy in Aziraphale's chest like an ornament on a too-small, too-barren tree, dragging down the branches with the weight and intensity of it until it nearly falls and shatters into pieces and rips itself from his lips.But instead he said, "Or I'll never speak to you again!" And that was almost the same, and he knew Crowley heard it too. That Crowley heard I'll never speak to you again and knew it meant I don't dare lose you, I love you.But then the world didn't end and he wasn't shipped off to his platoon and he was with Crowley still, his oldest and best friend in any world there might ever be and… he still couldn't say it.He's had thousands of years to practice beating it down, to keep it to himself, to only let Crowley know of his affection in the most roundabout of ways, and only a few months to unlearn it all. But, Crowley deserved more than that. Aziraphale deserved more than that too!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 63





	E pesa come l'anima

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SightKeeper (GarrulousGibberish)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarrulousGibberish/gifts).



> Thank you so so much Sightkeeper (see them here on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SightKeeper)and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/sightkeeper/) and [Tumblr](https://sightkeeper.tumblr.com/)!)
> 
> And the amazing, lovely, beautiful comic I _still _can't stop staring at and having _feelings_ about (gross, terrible! how dare you give me feelings, illegal!) [here!!!](https://twitter.com/SightKeeper/status/1322354907576369152)__
> 
> _Title from one of my favorite love songs _Il Libro Dell 'Amore_ by 2Cellos, translated to English it is something like "And [it] weighs like the soul"._

Aziraphale was careful, he was always careful, he had to be. Crowley wasn't careful, he was fast and he was flash and he never looked more than one way at a time when he crossed the street. So it fell to Aziraphale to be careful for the both of them.

They had rendezvous points, though Crowley named them like a spy thriller novel might, Aziraphale had chosen where they were. Bus stops and busy street corners, crowded museum cafes and libraries where they could be anyone at all. And most of all, he never, ever _said_ anything out loud that might get either of them hurt, at least not by their upper managements.

 _I love you_ caught on Aziraphale's tongue, just like it always did when the sun set on St James's park and the lovely reds and maroons lit Crowley's face and sharpened the shadows of his jaw.

Rather than that, he said, "Well then," as he stood, "it's getting late, wily demon, how do you feel about a nightcap?" And Crowley stood as well and huffed with a tiny upturn of his lips and sauntered just a little faster than Aziraphale normally walked, and Aziraphale knew Crowley thought it a splendid idea.

 _I love you_ sat like a prayer behind Aziraphale's teeth when Crowley laughed loudly and carefree at a silly joke said half-drunk in the hidden almost-room behind the till and cleverly placed bookshelves and a couch with which to trap a demon, to tempt him into dallying a little longer.

"Oh Crowley, dear!" Aziraphale almost burst with the joy of loving Crowley, but rerouted the stream so it would not be so dangerous and substituted it with, "Do you remember the time in Egypt? Those lovely loaves of bread with the figs in it! They don't make emmer wheat like they used to…" And Crowley hummed and smiled and slipped into the conversation like Aziraphale had said it anyway.

 _I love you_ hung heavy in Aziraphale's chest like an ornament on a too-small, too-barren tree, dragging down the branches with the weight and intensity of it until it nearly falls and shatters into pieces and rips itself from his lips.

But instead he said, "Or I'll never speak to you again!" And that was almost the same, and he knew Crowley heard it too. That Crowley heard _I'll never speak to you again_ and knew it meant _I don't dare lose you, I love you._

But then the world didn't end and he wasn't shipped off to his platoon and he was with Crowley _still_ , his oldest and best friend in any world there might ever be and… he still couldn't say it.

He's had thousands of years to practice beating it down, to keep it to himself, to only let Crowley know of his affection in the most roundabout of ways, and only a few months to unlearn it all. But, Crowley deserved more than that. Aziraphale deserved more than that too!

"Crowley, my dear, I hope you know, that my regard for you– well, it certainly is!" He couldn't finish, his tongue tied and his lips fumbled and his head spun in a thousand directions all at once and he just _couldn't_ manage. Frustration boiled beneath his bowtie and turned the taste of food he'd loved only moments before sharp and sour on his tongue and Crowley—dear, sweet Crowley—simply picked up his hands, cradled them like new hatchlings in his palms and kissed his knuckles.

"Whenever you like, Aziraphale, and not a moment before you can." Crowley said simply, and only let go of one of his hands, the other Crowley laced their fingers together and held on firm and gentle. The _I love you_ flooded Aziraphale like rain in a desert, it watered him and swept him away and his cup overfloweth until there was nothing more to him than his love.

Days later Aziraphale caught himself tamping down on the _I love you_ that welled up as he watched Crowley lay out hazards in front of his shop doors, bright orange cones and reflective markers sticking out by the kerb advertising construction where there was none and a layer of chalky white dust reminiscent of powdered concrete to keep people out of his shop.

Aziraphale thoughtlessly started, "Crowley, I–" before reflexively biting the tip of his tongue and redirecting his attention to the hand-written sign matching his shop hours saying "Closed for Construction, except by Appointment, other than Tuesdays and Wednesdays before 10 and after 11 or weekly by phone, submit appointment requests online or by letter" in that blocky, steady handwriting of Crowley's when he took the time to write it out clearly instead of that spidery scrawl he normally wrote in.

"Yeah, angel?" Crowley said, eyebrows up and his face open and just so _happy_ in ways he rarely was still in public, even though it was barely public at all at the top of his shop stoop between the pillars by his doors, it still _counted_.

"I… thank you, I mean. It's lovely, very kind of you." Aziraphale grimaced, he hadn't meant to say that, he knew that Crowley didn't like–

"Nah, s'fine. Lucky you're cute." Crowley scratched the side of his face and his cheeks were just a little red as he pushed past Aziraphale and into the shop, leaving him with the mantra of unspoken _I love you I love you I love you I love you_ floating around in his head and flowers growing from his chest, large and leafy and blooming wide for all the love he fed them and couldn't contain. If he could pluck those metaphorical things, then maybe, he'd be able to tell Crowley how much he loved him, could just say those three words to him, so he'd _know_ with absolutely no room to disagree.

Because that was it, wasn't it? Crowley deserved it, Aziraphale did too. They were free, they didn't have to be afeared or frightened of what the future held anymore, they were alright and they'd continue to be alright without looking over their shoulders, neither above nor below, and they could do as they liked.

And they didn't have to keep this dancing around and speaking in code, they could simply say what they liked plainly, and what Aziraphale _liked_ was to say three simple words he could otherwise in any other situation, to any other person, in any other configuration, except now and here and to Crowley no matter how much he meant them.

"Angel, you coming?" Crowley poked his head out from the door with a frown and furrowed brow, and Aziraphale smiled warmly.

"Yes, of course." _I love you_.

Six years after the world never ended in the first place, Crowley sat beside Aziraphale. Or rather, Crowley was on the couch as always and Aziraphale had begun joining him there, in the heart of his bookshop and his new Eden to guard and love and cherish and protect, and the best of all his loves here in the middle of it. No longer across the table in another chair fit only for one, Aziraphale sat beside him on the couch, and sometimes Crowley's fingertips brushed the back of Aziraphale's far shoulder, and sometimes Aziraphale leaned back and in—just a bit—until his shoulder slotted just underneath Crowley's and his arm pressed against Crowley's ribs all the way to Aziraphale's elbow and their legs lined up from knee to hip. And sometimes, sometimes, Aziraphale lay his head down on Crowley's shoulder and Crowley drew his arm off the back of the couch to curl around Azirpahale's shoulders and Crowley's hand curled deliberately around the curve of Aziraphale's bicep.

 _I love you_ , Aizraphale sighed the thought away, and then shot up from where he'd lain his head on Crowley's shoulder and grinned widely. He could _say_ that, he could just tell Crowley! He'd gotten so close last time! And just like always, Crowley looked at him unerringly, a compass needle to the north, Crowley's eyes turned to him.

"Oh, Crowley! Dear, I–" Aziraphale trilled, smile as wide as anything and heart fit to burst, and Crowley looked over, rolling his neck in that fluid way of his to make it seem so utterly natural that Aziraphale was the center of his attention, like a homing dove flying home _finally_ to bring tidings of hope in an olive branch.

"I… my regard for you…" Aziraphale's words turned stilted and his smile fell and the words just _wouldn't work_ and he scrambled and clawed at all the books and things he'd ever read that had ever shown their affection for another, all those people through the years who'd gathered all the courage of the whole world and said something they bloody well meant!

"Mhm," Crowley hummed encouragingly, the look on his face so soft Aziraphale's heart stuttered in his chest and fell and then _flew_ because how could he possibly ever be afraid of anything when Crowley looked at him like _that_ , as if he'd hung the very stars in the sky even though they both knew he'd never handled so much as a red dwarf.

"That is to say…" Aziraphale murmured, his cheeks heated and he could feel the blush of mortification and shame and how his shoulders curled up towards his neck in that terribly elegant fear-shame-terror-worry reaction humans had programmed into their forms.

Crowley turned to face him fully, arm falling from the back of the couch and reaching over to hold his hand, cradled it like something precious and laced their fingers for stability. He squeezed three times, distinct and warm and Aziraphale tried again. He wouldn't divert, he wouldn't say something else instead, by God he'd say it right this time!

"M– my esteem…" Aziraphale huffed under his breath—that wasn't right!—and started again, "I appreciate…"

Crowley squeezed his hand three times, once, twice, thrice, firm and calm and the way his eyes sparked behind his glasses and caught the gentle light of the backroom in Aziraphale's shop made Aziraphale's tongue loosen from its binds and the ever-present fear gripping his heart melted away, because _by God_ he'd tell Crowley. He'd say exactly what he'd meant every time Crowley had looked at him like that, and Crowley would _know_ because he'd told him, not because he'd have to know it on his own.

"Almost there." Crowley said, whispered really, his voice low and as gentle as his hands, sweet and soft and reminded Aziraphale of the first sip of dark chocolate cocoa for all the comfort and warmth it filled him with.

" _I love you!_ " Aziraphale said without thinking, thinking it as his mouth moved and the words spilled from him as easily as honey from the comb, dripping from his lips and flooding between them. Aziraphale laughed, delighted and free and unworried as the warmth of Crowley's smile wound around his heart instead of that fear.

"There you go!" Crowley replied, and his smile turned wobbly and his eyes watered until they shone behind his glasses and it was Aziraphale's turn to _know_ and to be happy with the knowing even though Crowley couldn't say it just yet. He'd get there.

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's hand and the other raised to lightly caress Crowley's cheek with his fingertips. "Whenever you like, my love, and not a moment before you can."

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me in a couple of places!
> 
> Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
> Tumblr: <https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/>
> 
> All my graphics/photomanips are there plus you can find updates on anything if you send me an ask or message! I also take graphic/banner/emoji requests and writing prompts/requests.


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